He's Our Baby Bear
by Mint Pizza Queen
Summary: Wilson was always there when we needed him. Now we need to be there when he needs us, whether he likes it or not. House/Cuddy/Wilson friendship. COMPLETED.


**Title:**He's Our Baby Bear  
**Fandom:** House, MD  
**Characters:** Lisa Cuddy, Greg House, James Wilson  
**Prompt:** 024. Family  
**Word Count:** 3000  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Wilson was always there when we needed him. Now we need to be there when he needs us, whether he likes it or not.  
**Author's Notes:** This was originally meant to be just House and Wilson centric and part of a long ass series, but I changed it at the last minute. Inspirational bites in the ass is much love. Rated for innuendos, language, and suggestive themes.

* * *

It may not be written and published in encyclopedias, but it is a proven fact that Gregory House is, in fact, a jerk.

Nay, an asshole. A bastard. Every synonym to Greg House will read something along the lines of something nasty, sarcastic, rude, and just plain mean.

His patients hate him, his fellow ducklings hate him, his ex-girlfriend hates him, and he is convinced that his boss is out to kill him.

It is not paranoia when you find a note from Cuddy saying that your clinic hours have been increased by ten percent and you feel that your life is threatened if you have to stay in the boring old clinic with boring old patients with the sniffles and wheezes.

So pretty much, Greg House lived a life of solitude, or at least he tried anyway. As much as he tried to convince himself everybody hated his guts, one person went about proving him wrong.

Damn him, that James Wilson. Oncologist, boy wonder, and panty peeler extraordinaire.

James Wilson, doe eyed doctor with an office right next to his, was convinced that he and House were best friends. Best buddies. "BFF", or best friends forever. House wouldn't say best friends, but acquaintance was good enough in his book.

Now, he might gain the title of fellow comrade if the man shut up once in a while and gave him those damn pancakes that he makes in the morning. Those fabulous, delicious, fluffy little disks of heaven, whose life was nearly taken by an Aussie the other day but was saved in the nick of time with a harsh slap with a cane's handle.

Damn Chase and his fascination with Wilson's exceedingly talented cooking skills.

But never mind Chase, this discussion was about Wilson. Wilson and his funny little idea that he and House were best friends.

House didn't have friends. Friends meant you were nice, and House was not nice. He was bitchy, miserable, and fit the perfect description of a hermit. Minus the video games and fat wallet, of course. Most hermits weren't that well off.

Despite his overall bitchiness, Wilson was always there. Always getting smacked around, taking in the verbal punches and the really painful cane slices at his ankles. He took it in, and dealt with it like a human being.

But, shockingly to House, Wilson wasn't as weak as he appeared.

He could toss a mean word like House, and had actually sent home a man running home crying once. Of course Wilson felt bad about this, but it was a point in House's book that Wilson may have been onto something in the book of being a fellow comrade to Gregory House.

So yes, Wilson could have a nasty mouth, but Wilson also had a nasty left hook, too.

Ignoring Wilson's rare tendencies to get violent while pissed and drunk, Wilson did have some good qualities about him that made him somewhat tolerable. He was pretty smart, he was determined when he wanted to be, and it was clever. Very clever. Something that could also be a flaw to his character, but that wasn't really a big problem.

Wilson's flaws tended to originate around the female half of society. He had a tendency to cheat on his wives (or girlfriends), and found that he was much too caring. His caring is what got him to sleep with other women in the first place, which ultimate and unsurprisingly got him into trouble often. Another thing that House saw in Wilson that was a flaw was--

"House, what do you think you're doing?"

--his exceptional skills in full-fledged seven hour long lectures.

House gritted his teeth as he forced himself to spin around in his chair, fist clenching the ball he normally toyed with while working on a tough case, and made eye contact with the oncologist. Once again Wilson was poised in pre-lecture mode: hands on hips, lips stretched in a thin line, eyes narrowed while glaring at him critically.

The diagnostician pondered on whether he could get out of this situation unscathed.

"Hello, Wilson. I do believe that I am sitting here relaxing. You, on the other hand, don't look like you're relaxed."

"You're supposed to be working down in the clinic."

House hemmed and hawed. "Oh, you know how it is down there, too many sick people. I might catch something, you know?"

Wilson wasn't looking any happier, which meant that there was more to this pissy Wilson thing than just clinic duty. House leant forward and studied him critically, making his own mental diagnosis.

"Another date down the drain?"

The oncologist twitched. "What does that have to do with patients?"

"You're pissy, that is usually caused from a date got wrong, you didn't get laid, or you met up with me on a bad day. I'm having a good day, so--I'm going to assume it's the former two."

Wilson didn't appear to be disturbed by his assumptions. "I haven't gone on a date in the past few months, House. You would know, you stalk me." He looked away. "And I'm not pissy. Just tired."

House gave him a look of suspicion. "No dates?"

The oncologist finally made an exasperated face. "House, I didn't go on a date. Cuddy can vouch for that. She was with me last night."

The diagnostician made a disgusted face. "You and Cuddy did the deed? I never knew that you went for other species."

"We didn't do anything, she was helping me with work last night," Wilson raised his voice to a level to express his extreme irritation. "I got swamped last night. You can't predict people dying, House."

House shrugged. "I never said that I could. Now be a good baby bear and tell papa bear what you did last night before I have to go to mama bear."

Wilson glared. "I already told you. I got swamped. I was up most of the night. I'm tired."

"Uh huh." House wasn't buying it. "You know what helps me when I'm tired? Food, and sleep. Let's go eat."

The oncologist shook his head. "You're unbelievable. I'm not buying you lunch. You have money, get your own." He turned and stomped out, leaving House at his desk.

House picked up his cane and hobbled to the doorway, waving it at Wilson. "Hey! I'm hungry, and what you buy is usually better in taste!"

Wilson continued to walk away, completely ignoring him.

House snorted and stomped back into his office, content for the most part that Wilson didn't give him a complete lecture (only partial one this time) and didn't remind him of clinic duty. He decided that to pass the time a good soap and a video game or two would do the trick, or at least he thought so up until he went face to face with the she-devil herself.

Cuddy raised a perfect plucked brow at him and gave the best smile possible. "Dr. House, what a pleasant surprise running into you out here. On your way to clinic duty?"

"Actually, no--"

"You are? Excellent," she brought up a large stack of folders and dumped them onto House's chest, causing the man to grab them with his free hand and glare at the woman with irritation. "There's not that many, you may get them done in time for General Hospital. But if you keep standing here like this, you may miss the first five minutes, so you might want to hurry."

House attempted to stop her, but the fast clicking of her heels signaled that she was gone. He snorted, then growled at the stack. Not that many, right.

-----

"Congratulations," Cuddy patted House on the head in a manner that made it seem like he was a child. "You went through all the patients without a hassle. Now, tell me, how do you feel?"

House glared. "Annoyed, irritated." He paused. "Like Wilson," he chirped, a smirk finally planting itself on his face. If he played his cards right, he could get the answers that he wanted without having to face Wilson and receive a lecture and a half.

Cuddy took the bait like a child being led into a candy store with a lollipop. "Wilson is annoyed? What did you do?"

"He came to me irritated. I didn't do anything--" he paused. "Yet."

The woman raised a skeptical brow. "I knew something was up the moment I came in and found all the patients in the clinic were treated. What did you do to him?"

House groaned in exaggeration. "I didn't do anything to him. I was a good boy for once." He pursed his lips. "He did say something about you and him last night."

She blinked.

"Said that you two worked late last night on something--told me to ask you. He says he's tired. I say he's full of shit." House looked off to the side with his head cocked, lost in thought. "Is he constipated? That could explain the irritable mood he's in."

Cuddy didn't say anything, but she looked thoughtful. "He really said we were working late together last night?"

House made a 'duh' expression.

The woman ran a hand along the line of her jaw. "Well, let's go pay Wilson a visit. What do you say?"

The man clapped eagerly. "We're going to the zoo, mama? We're really going to the zoo?"

Cuddy made an annoyed face before she sighed. "Yes, we're going to the zoo. But you're paying your own way in."

"You're a mean mama," he complained as he hobbled into an elevator with her stepping in place beside him.

The trip to Wilson's office was surprisingly fast. House was at the door in a heartbeat, cane poised as if he were going to beat the door down with it. Cuddy swept a hand in front of him and shook her head.

Instead of knocking like he assumed she would, she gripped the handle and pushed the door open, startling him.

The occupant wasn't startled--in fact, he was sleeping. Wilson was curled up on the couch, his white lab coat thrown over him as a makeshift blanket. The blinds were open, and his folders were left wide open on his desk.

It was as if Wilson was just too tired to do anything and had dropped everything, and dropped himself onto the couch like everything else.

Cuddy was quick in thinking and practically floated to the couch. Quietly, she kneeled beside him, placing a hand gently on Wilson's shoulder. "Hey, James, wake up."

She gently shook him, and he groaned softly. It was a windy groan, like those made by people who didn't want to get up from a sleep or had a stomach ache. House assumed it was, in fact, from being tired.

When Wilson finally opened his eyes, he nearly toppled off the couch in surprise after making eye contact with Cuddy. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear the phone. I didn't know you--"

"I didn't call." She smiled.

He looked confused.

House decided to clear it up. "We came to ask if you wanted to join us and have a threesome." A glare from Cuddy and a choke from Wilson made him feel content and accomplished. There was something about hearing the choke and feeling the glare that made him feel like he was the king of the world. Now if only there were pancakes and a thing of beer, and all would be perfect.

"Actually, we came to ask if everything was all right." Cuddy rubbed at Wilson's shoulder as the man rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Having a bad day?"

"Just tired."

Cuddy nodding in understanding. "That tends to happen when you're overworked." She eyed House, then averted her gaze slowly, signaling that her gears were turning at maximum power and she was plotting.

Cuddy plus plotting equals mystery.

Mystery good.

"Now uh--" The woman began with hesitation, signaling she had something going or was just plain nervous. Her calm demeanor supported the former. "--what's this I hear about you and me--working late together last night?"

Wilson actually curled into himself and brought the coat over his head. A mumbled 'oh god' brought House into the conversation.

"Yes, I went to mama bear. Baby bear was lying to papa bear, so I only did the sensible thing."

"You only went to Cuddy because I wouldn't tell you anything," Wilson threw the coat off, looking livid. "Any other time it doesn't matter, but when you don't get a straight forward answer, you go berserk looking for one. You're a bastard. Leave me the hell alone." He flipped over so his back was to both Cuddy and House.

House was actually speechless, but Cuddy was undeterred. She grabbed Wilson's shoulder and yanked him, nearly throwing him off the couch had he not caught himself like he had.

"All right. Spill. What happened, and don't go lying to me. I'll have your ass on a stick if you try that with me." She rose to full height, arms crossed and a scowled etched across her pretty features.

Wilson was actually bold enough to glare at Cuddy, which House added to the book. Now, it could've been bravery or pure stupidity, but at the moment, House wasn't going to be picky. If this was going to turn into a fist fight, he was ready. For once he brought his camera with him and fortunately, he had it stuffed in his jacket pocket. His fingers itched on his cane for something to just happen, and happen fast.

"Nothing happened," Wilson reasoned slowly with a low tone. "I'm tired. I used you in my excuse to try to get him," he flicked a finger in House's direction, "to leave me alone. I should've known better, this is House after all."

Cuddy broke down from her angry glare to a smile and patted his disheveled hair. "It's all right. You're forgiven only if you tell me one thing--"

"Who were you in bed with last night?" House interjected a bit too cheerfully, resulting with a groan from Cuddy and an annoyed twitch from Wilson.

"--no," the woman spat at House before she twitched as well. "I was going to ask when was the last time you actually slept more than half an hour. You look like hell."

House paused and actually chose that moment to take a closer observation of Wilson. Sure he looked disheveled, but that could've been from the fact he was just sleeping (or was he?) and had been twisting around like a child throwing a temper tantrum. But after looking closer, signs revealed pale gray replacing what was once normally a lively, fleshy peach skin on Wilson's person. His eyes weren't as bright, and often when he blinked, his eyes were closed for a fraction of a second too long, like he was about to fall asleep right then and there but forced himself to wake once more. His movements were sluggish too, something House smacked himself repeatedly for not noticing earlier.

How could he have missed something so simple?

"Well?" Cuddy was persistent when she wanted to be, which was almost all the time. She gently rapped her knuckles against Wilson's legs and he shuffled so she could sit next to him. He remained laying down, but was tucked into a tighter ball, like he was trying to escape the world. House decided to share that information aloud.

"Three failed marriages and a lousy best friend tends to make you not want to bother with people," Wilson snapped back, refusing to look him in the eye. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation and sighed. "I just want to be alone. I have a couple appointments later today, and I doubt that I can stay awake during them at this rate. Can you leave so I can take a quick nap?"

Cuddy shook her head. "No, I can't leave. And I don't recall you having any appointments later today. In fact, Dr. House, why don't you tell his assistant right now that Dr. Wilson will be going home right now, and any miscellaneous appointments, meetings, and what not will have to wait until he is well again."

Wilson looked alarmed, ready to retort, but Cuddy leant forward and made her point otherwise. "Don't argue with me, Wilson. It'll do you as good as it does with House. You're going home."

"I don't have a home--"

She eyed him. She looked over to House, who felt the piercing gaze. Wilson's latest divorce left him homeless, but not technically. He got himself a hotel room, which was draining his money like water.

It was about time things changed, albeit just a little bit.

"Sure you do," House twirled his cane, then wiggled his eyebrows at Wilson. "221B. You should know that place, you're there almost all the time drinking beer and eating pizza while watching porn with me." Wilson flushed and Cuddy smirked at this newfound knowledge. "In fact, there's a couch with your ass print in it. Signed too, says 'Wilson's Ass Here Only'. Now it's been a little underused in the past few weeks, but I'm sure a quick sweep of the hand will wipe away the dust and a few good pornos will put that seat to good use again."

The oncologist blinked rapidly, whether it was from shock or the fact he looked like he was about to cry House didn't want to know. So instead, he looped the handle of the cane into the collar of Wilson's shirt and tugged. "Let's go, baby bear. Papa bear will bring you home and read you a bedtime story."

"No," Cuddy drawled out, unhooking the cane and helping Wilson into sitting position. "Mama bear will read a bedtime story and papa bear will be there feeding baby bear porridge."

House made a face. "This family is so messed up."

Cuddy scowled at him playfully while Wilson merely smiled.


End file.
